


these, our bodies, possessed by light

by frapucinno



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: M/M, god!AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-25
Updated: 2017-10-25
Packaged: 2019-01-23 00:02:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12493872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frapucinno/pseuds/frapucinno
Summary: Jihoon treats Soonyoung like he’s a person instead of something divine and celestial and untouchable, and for the first time in what feels like forever, Soonyoung feels almost human.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> hello i am back with a soonhoon au no one asked for.  
> inspired by the lilili yabbay mv, which gave me greek mythology vibes. i had to get this out of my system.  
> (title taken from the poem 'scheherazade' by richard siken)

Soonyoung first sees him sitting in a field, back pressed against the trunk of an old oak tree. He sings a tune Soonyoung doesn’t recognise but is drawn to anyway, voice like gentle waves crashing onto a shore of untouched white sand. His eyes are closed, which is why he doesn’t see Soonyoung approach him; Soonyoung treads carefully, grass soft under his bare feet. The shade of the tree casts a harsh shadow across the boy’s face; he is soaked in sunlight and drenched in spring. Soonyoung wants to reach out and brush his fingers against his skin, but couldn’t. Shouldn’t.

It is the age of heroes, where the line between god and men is very much distinct. You either had gold or crimson running through your veins. Soonyoung has the former. It is a weight he has no choice but to bear - some days it is easy, other days not so much. Soonyoung has the privilege to stand quietly and watch as everything falls apart around him and rebuilds itself anew, has the privilege to remain unscathed even as the world burns.

Times are changing, which is a main reason why Soonyoung isn’t allowed to interfere with the work of mortals. They used to build temples and altars, pray on their knees, spill blood - all for the sake of the gods. It is an unspoken rule amongst the remaining deities, those who still hold some power - why help those who don’t even believe in them anymore? Some of them don’t necessarily believe in this rule, but they have no choice to follow it; gods draw their power from belief and with a majority of them already disappearing, the ones left standing have to focus their powers on more important things.

So Soonyoung just watches him from afar.

The boy sings of the ocean. The boy sings of love.

Soonyoung is gone by the time he opens his eyes.

////

Soonyoung watches over the boy, visits him every chance he gets. He will always be in the same place - in the field, under the oak tree. Sometimes he carries a basket of figs and would eat instead of sing, other times he brings a lyre along with him. The sound of the strings echo throughout the field, and Soonyoung thinks it compliments his voice beautifully.

When Junhui finally notices where Soonyoung would go during the day, he warns him, “Remember, we are not to meddle with men. It is not our job.”

“Times have changed,” replies Soonyoung. “Kronos is dead. Zeus is dying.”

“Which is reason enough for us to not interfere. They have forgotten all about us.”

“Not all of them. There are still those who believe.”

Junhui frowns. “But there are not enough.”

“You can give me advice,” Soonyoung says. “But you cannot tell me what to do.”

Junhui says nothing, just looks at Soonyoung with those deep purple eyes of his. They tend to make people feel a bit uneasy, and Soonyoung is no exception. He feels as if Junhui could get into his head just by a simple glance. They are the eyes of a person who has seen the beginning and the end of a world, a person who knows of things before and beyond his time.

“I’m simply a keeper of the past, the present and the future,” Junhui says after a while. “It is true that I do not have the power to tell you what to do, but know that it is unwise if you were to interact with them.”

“Mortals are stronger and wiser than you think,” Soonyoung says. “A single god will not cause them to budge. Not anymore.”

“It is not them I am worried about.” Junhui’s voice is uncharacteristically low, and Soonyoung thinks his eyes brighten up by a hue when he says, “It is you.”

////

The wind whistles softly past Soonyoung’s ears, gentle as it caresses his skin. The mortal boy sits cross-legged under the tree, juice dripping down his fingertips as he cracks open a fig. His fingers are delicate and slender but calloused, Soonyoung observes, which means that he’s good with his hands and has a job where he makes full use of them. A blacksmith, perhaps, or a musician, maybe even a farmer. He wonders if the boy has a family, or if he lives alone.

He is shaken out of his thoughts when a voice suddenly says, “I know you’re there.”

Soonyoung freezes. He looks warily at the back of the boy’s head, locks of brown hair mussed up by the wind. He knows that it was he who had spoken, but if he had noticed Soonyoung he made no indication of it.

Finally he turns just a little, eyes locking with Soonyoung’s. They are a warm shade of brown with specks of gold that the sunlight glints off, glossy like honey. “Come here, I won’t bite.”

Soonyoung approaches him, carefully, as if a sudden move might cause him to run away. The boy throws him a fig and Soonyoung barely manages to catch it.

“You look like you could use something to eat,” the boy says through a mouthful of fruit. He smiles at Soonyoung, who holds the fig dumbly in his hands. He stares at it for a while before splitting it open to reveal its juicy, dark red center. He does not need sustenance to survive, but Soonyoung takes a bite of the flesh anyway. Its sticky sweetness glides down Soonyoung’s throat.

“Thank you,” Soonyoung says once he had finished his fruit, sitting down on the spot next to the boy. He smells like saltwater.

“They’re in season,” says the boy as he splits open another fig, handing half of it to Soonyoung. He takes it. “You’re not from around here, are you?”

“What makes you say that?” Soonyoung inquires instead of answering the boy’s question.

The boy shrugs. “I don’t know. You don’t… You don’t look like you’re from here.”

“I’m not,” Soonyoung admits. It isn’t exactly a lie, nor is it the truth.

“I’m Jihoon,” the boy introduces himself. _Wisdom,_ Soonyoung thinks. _That’s a nice name._ Jihoon extends a hand and Soonyoung shakes it, their palms sticky with juice.

“You can call me Soonyoung,” Soonyoung says. He offers Jihoon a smile, who returns it. “Sorry if I seemed a bit intrusive. I’m not really familiar with the area.”

Jihoon perks up at this. He wipes juice from the corners of his mouth with the back of his hand. “I could show you around if you’d like. My work’s done for the day, I have time to spare.”

Soonyoung grins. “That would be great.”

////

Jihoon brings him to the marketplace, deep in the heart of a city that Soonyoung didn’t quite care to remember the name of. He is suddenly too aware of Jihoon’s fingers grasping onto the sleeves of Soonyoung’s white cloak as to not lose him amongst the throng of people. Soonyoung feels every heartbeat, hears every inhale and exhale -- it’s been a long time since he’s been surrounded by so many people and it’s a bit overwhelming, so he channels all his focus onto Jihoon, who’s explaining the ins and outs of the city to him.

“This is where I work,” Jihoon says, gesturing around him with his free hand as he navigates them through a maze of colourful stalls and carts. He waves to a kind looking old woman when they walk past her stall, beautiful accessories and little trinkets put up on display. Soonyoung brushes his fingers over a particular amulet that catches his eye, the gem embedded in the middle a bright blue. “I mean, most of the time I’m at sea, but I’m here too.”

“At sea?” Soonyoung raises an eyebrow in question.

“I fish. I sell my catches here,” says Jihoon. That would explain the saltwater smell. Being in charge of bodies of water, Soonyoung thinks he should keep a more careful eye over the sea then, if Jihoon is often out there.

Jihoon shows him around the market and introduces him to some people that he’s befriended. There is Seungcheol, a blacksmith, Wonwoo who sells produce and Jeonghan who runs a pottery stall. They all regard Jihoon in fondness, and Soonyoung wonders if Jihoon is someone who is well-known in the area, because it certainly seems he is well-liked. Something inside Soonyoung pangs -- the sudden realization that he probably won’t know Jihoon as well as the people he spends most of his days with.

“I’ll be going out to sea tomorrow at sunrise. Would you like to join me?” Jihoon offers Soonyoung at the end of their tour. They’re by the acropolis, a marvelous temple behind them, its pillars gleaming gold and bronze under the setting sun. From up there, Soonyoung could see the city below packing up to rest for the day, only to start all over again tomorrow. Torches are lit to illuminate the darkening roads, orange flames glinting off rocks and cobblestone.

Jihoon waits expectantly for an answer, which Soonyoung gives in form of a nod and a, “I’d be honoured.”

////

The boat bobs gently on top of the calm ocean, water as still as a sleeping giant. Soonyoung drinks in the sight of Jihoon, skin kissed with the soft amber glow of the rising sun, dawn slipping through his fingertips as he busies himself with the fishing net. In the scattered light of a sun that’s just awakened, his eyes look more golden than it does brown.

Jihoon teaches Soonyoung how to cast the net, skilled hands guiding Soonyoung’s own as he explains what is the best way to throw it, adjusting Soonyoung’s arms in order to get the angle and position just right. The movement is new to Soonyoung, but Jihoon casts his net with much ease and familiarity; muscle memory, practised movements -- indications of how long he has been doing this.

They wait patiently for the fish to gather (Soonyoung might have had a hand in this, channelling them to swim into the net) and Soonyoung strikes up a conversation to fill the silence. Jihoon’s replies are concise and straight to the point, doesn’t share anything else than what is needed to answer Soonyoung’s questions. He doesn’t push Jihoon for answers and Jihoon is the same towards him. Soonyoung supplies just enough information to sate Jihoon’s curiosity; he doesn’t actually lie, just tells Jihoon a small part of the whole truth.

In the time that they spent in the small, salt-crusted fishing boat, Soonyoung learns that Jihoon is twenty years old and lives alone in a small house by the shore. He taught himself how to play the lyre by watching theatre shows and street performers, and prefers spring over summer. Soonyoung enjoys Jihoon’s company, something that he finds is easy and transparent. He’s been alone for decades with only other gods for company, and the mortals that he’s met knew that he’s a god, hence they treated him as such -- flower petals thrown on the very ground he’s walked on, laurel wreaths shoved into his hands. With Jihoon’s ignorance comes unrepressed behaviour; he isn’t burdened with the knowledge that Soonyoung bleeds ichor instead of rose.

Jihoon treats Soonyoung like he’s a person instead of something divine and celestial and untouchable, and for the first time in what feels like forever, Soonyoung feels almost human.

////

Jihoon brings Soonyoung to the market once they’ve gathered the catches of the day (“Wow, there’s a lot more in here than usual,” Jihoon had remarked as he heaved a basket full of fish out of the shored boat. Soonyoung had just smiled.), and, with Soonyoung’s help, sets up his stall much quicker than usual. Opposite them is Wonwoo’s stall, packed with greens and fruits, an impressively tall pile of apples standing in the corner looking like it would collapse with the slightest touch. He strides towards them and trades with Jihoon, Soonyoung observing the exchange quietly and curiously. He notes that Jihoon seems to really like fruits, judging from the basket Wonwoo hands over to him filled with figs and apples.

Soonyoung helps Jihoon run the stall and by the time late afternoon comes bringing the sun along to perch in the middle of the clear sky, they’ve already sold out. Jihoon counts the money he had earned today, coins of gold and silver neatly stacked up in a pile on the stall table, before splitting them evenly and handing half to Soonyoung.

“Here you go,” he says as he drops the coins into Soonyoung’s palms. They feel cold against his hot skin. “Your share for today.”

Soonyoung stares at the coins for a while before slipping them back into the open leather pouch Jihoon is clutching. “It’s alright,” he says. “You keep them. I didn’t do much anyway.”

Jihoon regards him in surprise but says nothing, just pulls the strings of the pouch to close it. Soonyoung smiles at him and hopes it comes across as sincere; he doesn’t need Jihoon to pay him, doesn’t need Jihoon to give him something in exchange for his help, because spending time with Jihoon is more than enough for him.

////

This goes on for some time -- every day, Soonyoung meets Jihoon by the sea at sunrise and then they go off to the market together to barter and sell. And every day, Soonyoung can’t help himself becoming breathless at the sight of Jihoon bathed in the glow of a waking sun. He adamantly refuses any form of payment from Jihoon, much to the male’s frustration, but he soon learned to give up sneaking coins into Soonyoung’s pockets and just keep them for himself. It’s a nice and easy routine that Soonyoung finds himself looking forward to each day.

They end much later than usual today, the sun already starting to sink when they finally finish cleaning up. “Let’s go to the nearby tavern,” Jihoon suggests, straightening the wrinkles out from his cloak. “We earned a lot more today and we have some money to spare.”

The way Jihoon says _we_ stirs something up inside Soonyoung; he says _we_ like he had known Soonyoung for years, like Soonyoung had always been part of the word.

The tavern is already crowded when they step inside, but Jihoon manages to find them a table by the corner. The scent of wine fills the air, a pleasantly dizzying aroma. They order two glasses and a plate of bread, their server a cheerful man called Seokmin that seems to know Jihoon well.

Someone steps onto the makeshift stage in the middle of the tavern, gaining most of the attention in the room. He’s as cheerful as Seokmin when he greets the crowd, his light brown hair plastered onto his forehead, his enthusiastic voice echoing off the tavern walls.

Soonyoung feels Jihoon elbow his side. “That’s Seungkwan,” Jihoon says, pointing to the stage with a half-eaten piece of bread in his hand. “He’s really good.”

With his clear and powerful voice, Seungkwan sings a fun tune that gets the whole tavern singing and clapping along. Soonyoung watches with a smile and soaks in the happiness radiating off each and every person, savours the harmony of cheers and laughter.

When the tavern quiets down with Seungkwan asking for volunteers to take the stage, Soonyoung turns to Jihoon to speak to him. “You do know a lot of people here.”

Jihoon shrugs, takes a sip of wine and replies, “I used to work here for a while before taking up fishing full time.”

“As a waiter?”

“As a singer.”

“That’s amazing.”

Jihoon flushes a bit and waves him off. “Ah, not really.”

“It is!” Soonyoung says. “I have heard you sing. You’re wonderful.”

Jihoon scratches the back of his neck. “Thank you, but I -”

Soonyoung waves to get Seungkwan’s attention and points to Jihoon, who finally realizes what he’s doing and pokes him in the rib.

“We have a volunteer!” Seungkwan announces. He gives Jihoon a cheeky wink. “Come up on stage!”

Jihoon shoots Soonyoung an empty glare before breaking into a shy smile, sighing in defeat and rising from his seat to take his place on stage. All eyes turn to him when he starts singing, a song that is all too familiar to Soonyoung, something that Soonyoung’s listened to time and time again; his voice is light and airy -- like spring, like waves.

A tune about the ocean. A tune about love.

//// //

“It’s going to rain.”

Soonyoung stops fiddling with the net and looks up to see Jihoon squinting at the sky, arm extended, palm up. Soonyoung mirrors his action and feels the miniscule drops of water starting to fall onto his arm. The sky is darkening into a gloomy graphite, a telltale sign of an oncoming storm. “You’re right,” he says.

They quickly pick up the oars and row back to shore, making it just in time as the rain gets heavier.

“Come on!” Jihoon exclaims over the distant crackling of thunder. He gestures for Soonyoung to follow him and leads the way up a sandy slope to a small house sitting at its top, all graying rocks and rusty red bricks. Soonyoung could tell the house had seen better days.

The door creaks, swinging on its hinges as Jihoon pushes the door open, then slams against its frame when he shuts it quickly once they’re both inside. They stand by the doorway, drenched in rainwater, trying to catch their breaths. Even inside, the sound of the rain is near-deafening.

“I’ll go get something for us to change in,” Jihoon announces after a while. He brushes his wet hair out of his eyes and pads off somewhere deeper into the house, leaving a trail of footprints behind him.

Soonyoung stays standing, cloak gathered in his hands so as to not weigh him down. He studies the house -- it looks cozy and well-lived in, albeit a bit worn down, and free of any mess and clutter. He spots a small makeshift fireplace in the corner, figures he should go and ask Jihoon if he could light it up to warm them up. Soonyoung follows the wet footprints on the floor and arrives in front of a door that most likely leads to Jihoon’s bedroom. He pushes it open, gasps out a small “ _oh_ ” when he sees Jihoon’s bare back faced towards him, droplets of water rolling down his shoulderblades and falling onto the floor, wet garments thrown aside.

Jihoo turns around swiftly, eyes widening when he sees Soonyoung, quickly picking up a new set of clothes to cover himself up. “My god, you scared me,” Jihoon says. His cheeks are a bright shade of red.

“I’m sorry,” Soonyoung apologizes, averting his eyes from Jihoon’s figure. He feels the tips of his ears grow warm. “I wanted to ask you if I could light a fire.”

“Ah, yes, I’ll-I’ll get it,” Jihoon stutters out. He’s still gripping onto his clothes as he gestures to a pile lying on the bed, neatly folded. “You can change into those. I’m not sure if they’ll fit, but it’s better than nothing.”

He heads for the door, was just about to exit when Soonyoung, unsure of what possessed him to do so, grabs hold of his wrist to stop him.

“Jihoon,” Soonyoung starts. Jihoon’s soft skin is cold against Soonyoung’s fingertips. Jihoon turns to look at him, eyes glimmering with something Soonyoung couldn’t quite name. He lets go of Jihoon’s wrist, stays close enough that he can feel Jihoon’s body heat radiating off him. “May I -”

“Yes,” Jihoon breathes out. He doesn’t need to hear Soonyoung finish his question; he has his answer already. “Yes, you may.”

Soonyoung leans in, presses a soft kiss upon Jihoon’s lips, cold and a bit chapped, tastes of the sea and the rising sun. The windows shake from the rolling thunder just like how Soonyoung’s heart rattles in his chest when Jihoon’s hand slides up his arm, resting on his chest for a second before he wraps his arms around Soonyoung’s neck, releasing the grip he had on his clothes, pooling white by his feet.

////

The market is bustling, busier than usual, not a single vacant spot between the many stalls and carts. Soonyoung takes in the vibrant life of it; he’s never going to get tired of the market and its interesting visitors. He stands by Jihoon’s side and watches over him as the boy barters and sells fish non-stop, helping occasionally when needed.

Once there is a lull, Jihoon faces him and reaches into his pocket to pull out an amulet. The striking blue gem gleams at Soonyoung as he stares at it, dumbfounded. Jihoon pushes it into his palm and closes his fingers around it, saying, “It’s for you. To thank you for all your help.”

“I-You didn’t have to,” Soonyoung sputters, gaping at the amulet, then back at Jihoon.

“I insist,” says Jihoon. “I saw you staring at it the other day and I thought it would be perfect for you. Come on. Try it on.”

Soonyoung does as he’s told and slides it over his head; it sits just above the middle of his collarbone. He runs his thumb over the gem -- looking into it is just like looking at a miniature version of the ocean. He smiles at Jihoon, a warmth in his chest that he hasn’t felt for a long time, something deep beneath his ribcage, unearthed. “Thank you.”

Jihoon grins, and the warmth grows. “It’s my pleasure.”

They stand there for a while -- Soonyoung not knowing what to say, not being able to find the words to tell Jihoon how much he appreciates the gesture, and Jihoon looking pleased that Soonyoung likes his gift, his cheeks dusted a light pink which Soonyoung finds very endearing -- until a customer comes and calls for Jihoon. They get back to work, the amulet a foreign but not unpleasant weight around Soonyoung’s neck.

The euphoria of it only lasts a while. Soonyoung suddenly feels as if something’s off, a sensation that makes his fingertips tingle. Something presses down against his shoulders and ties his stomach into knots, dread hangs in the brittle air. The noises around him abruptly rise in volume and he’s hyperaware of every movement, every breath.

He can’t exactly figure out what the cause of it is until he sees an arrow flying through the air, embedding itself onto a pile of scarves from a nearby stall. His eyes widen in realisation, his first instinct to grab Jihoon’s hand, who yelps in surprise, and pull him down into a crouching position.

Something falls over with a loud crash and a chorus of screams erupts. Jihoon looks at him, eyes wide in fear. “What... What’s going on?”

“We’re being attacked,” Soonyoung replies, feels Jihoon’s pulse quicken under his fingers where he’s gripping his wrist. “We have to move. The acropolis is the safest option.” Soonyoung peeks over the stall’s display and sees guards storming the market, wearing armour that definitely does not belong to the city, brandishing swords and loaded bows. He turns back to Jihoon and says, “On my mark, we run.”

Jihoon nods stiffly. Soonyoung feels him shaking and he gives Jihoon’s hand a light squeeze.

“Don’t worry. I’m here,” Soonyoung assures him.

Jihoon closes his eyes and releases a breath. “I’m ready.”

Soonyoung checks the situation again. He sees an opening in the panicked crowd a safe distance away, easily accessible if they were to quickly move. His grip on Jihoon’s hand tightens. “Now.”

They run, Soonyoung leading Jihoon and making sure he doesn’t fall behind, pushingpast people who are all also trying to escape the pandemonium. A flaming arrow narrowly misses hitting them as it lands somewhere to Soonyoung’s left, igniting whatever it hit in flames. Broken pieces of wood scatter the floor, their jagged edges sharp like the teeth of a shark;, the cobblestones are stained dark red. Even though Soonyoung knows that there’s no way he could get killed, his heart is still threatening to leap out of his throat. It’s almost too much for Soonyoung to bear -- this isn’t right, he thinks. No one should be merciless enough to kill their own kind.

They’ve almost reached the acropolis when something hits Soonyoung on the side of the head, heavy and blunt. He stumbles, losing his grip on Jihoon as the boy falls down on the dirty floor due to the sudden stop. Soonyoung feels a pair of strong arms restrain him; he hears Jihoon yell and sees him being hauled up to his feet by an enemy soldier, a sword pressed to the hollow of his throat.

Time seems to slow down as the edge of the sword presses closer and closer into Jihoon’s skin. Soonyoung’s mouth opens; he’s screaming but he can’t hear himself as he fights off the soldier who’s restraining him. There’s quite a distance between him and Jihoon and he knows he won’t be fast enough, so he does something he’s rarely ever done before – especially not in front of mortals.

He reaches his arm out at the direction of the soldier who has Jihoon in his grip and jerks his hand to the side. There’s a sickening crunch; the soldier crumples, sword falling to the ground with a clang from his lifeless hands.

Jihoon gawks at Soonyoung, eyes filled with a renewed fear and something else that Soonyoung can’t quite put his finger on – but Soonyoung doesn’t think much of it for now. He grabs hold of Jihoon again and runs, runs, _runs_.

They reach safety soon enough, soldiers from the city running the opposite direction for a counterattack. Soonyoung tries to slow down his heartbeat and Jihoon’s doing the same, hands on his knees as he bends over to catch his breath.

“Y-You’re -” Jihoon gasps out, looking at Soonyoung. He has a small cut on his cheek and his knees are scraped up. “You’re a -”

“I’m sorry,” Soonyoung breathes. “I’m sorry I didn’t -”

 _I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner, I’m sorry you had to find out this way, I’m sorry I killed a man right in front of you, I’m sorry I’m not the person you thought I was,_ he wants to say, but he isn’t given the chance to as he’s cut off by Jihoon throwing his arms around him, the sudden weight almost enough to knock him off his feet.

“You don’t have to be sorry,” Jihoon says, words muffled and shaky as he buries his face in Soonyoung’s shoulders. “You don’t have to explain.”

Soonyoung places a hand on Jihoon’s back and feels his body shaking. Jihoon is crying. Relief hits him harder than he thought, and he holds Jihoon as if he’s never planning to let go, holds him like how Atlas holds the world on his shoulders.

“It’s alright. You’re safe,” Soonyoung whispers in his ears. “We’re safe.”

////

The grass is damp with morning dew, but they’re lying on the ground anyway, under the great oak tree that’s become a familiar fixture to Soonyoung. It’s been some time since the surprise attack at the market – apparently more than half of it has been burned down – and neither of them had brought up the incident with the soldier or the fact that Soonyoung is not mortal, until today.

When Jihoon speaks it is a whisper, his voice almost silenced by the distant crashing of waves. “What is it like?”

“Hm?” Soonyoung tilts his head to look at Jihoon, who’s studying his face with a look in his eyes that he has never seen before. A mixture of awe, fear and curiosity. “What’s what like?”

“Being a god. What is it like?”

Silence falling over them like a woollen blanket as Soonyoung ponders over Jihoon’s question for a moment. He’s never thought about it before, because he’s been born into this world a god; he doesn’t have anything else to compare it to. He answers, after a while, with as much truth as he can express in his voice, “I don’t know. Sometimes I’m the sky, sometimes I’m the storm.”

Silence, then Jihoon speaks up again, “Then how does it feel being in love with a mortal?” Jihoon’s voice is unbearably quiet, rich brown eyes shining gold under the light of the day.

“Human,” Soonyoung answers without missing a beat. He reaches for Jihoon’s hand, tangles their fingers together and Jihoon smiles, all sunlight and honey. “What does it feel like loving a god?”

Jihoon’s voice is raw when he answers, as if he’s stripped down to nothing but his bones, waves crashing against his ribcage, seawater pulsing through his veins. “Holy. I feel holy.”

Some days divinity feels like ambrosia and nectar, dripping gold to a bed of white lilies and feathers, delicate fingers wreathing laurels, and kisses on skin when the dawn breaks the night; and Soonyoung feels this whenever he’s with Jihoon.

“I would cross the stars for you,” sighs Jihoon, nuzzling his face into the crook of Soonyoung’s neck. His soft hair tickles the bottom of Soonyoung’s chin. Soonyoung breathes in and smells wild flowers and the sea.

“As would I,” Soonyoung replies.

////

It’s in the same field, days later, that Jihoon tells Soonyoung he’s going to fight in the war.

“It’s what is expected of me,” explains Jihoon. He has a brave face on, but Soonyoung knows deep down he’s scared. “I’ll be punished if they find out I’m not cooperating. And I can’t sell in the market anymore since it’s burned down. I have no choice.”

Soonyoung tells him, begs him not to go, but Jihoon is adamant. “Let me do this for my city. Let me do this for me.” A mortal who does not seek the help of a god, knows that humanity is just as substantial as divinity. Strong-headed, iron-willed.

So Soonyoung lets him go.

That night, Soonyoung holds Jihoon tighter than ever.

////

Soonyoung still watches over Jihoon. Jihoon prays to him often, for comfort or for a blessing or just to talk to him, and Soonyoung listens and hopes. There are particularly rough days where Jihoon would return to camp bruised and on the edge of breaking, but he’s strong, piecing himself up together by the next morning. Soonyoung remembers something Junhui had told him long ago, _“Let them do what must be done.”_

Even with the control of the oceans on the tips of his fingers, these are the days where Soonyoung feels the most powerless.

////

_It’s dark._

_It’s dark and my chest hurts._

There’s red, crimson, blood. Feels wet. Slick. Must wash it off before it stains.

_Ah._

_I’m dying, aren’t I?_

It’s dark. The stars are shining. Always so beautiful, even on the most horrendous of days.

_At least Soonyoung will have something pretty to look at._

Soonyoung. Soonyoung.

_Soonyoung. Please look away._

A ringing silence, a shooting pain. His vision blurs.

_I’m so tired._

His lids are getting heavy, iron weights pushing them down.

_Tired._

He hears the ocean; salt spray, crashing waves, a gentle whisper.

_Soonyoung --_

_I love you._

////

The winds tell him of the news, distressed and apprehensive, as if they don’t know how Soonyoung would react. Everything hits Soonyoung all at once like a tornado.

Some days divinity feels like ambrosia and nectar, dripping gold, delicate fingers, and kisses on skin; but today divinity feels like flesh under nails, blood on bruised knuckles, a building raw inferno and unbridled storms in lungs. Sometimes Soonyoung is the sky, but today he is the storm.

That night, a hurricane hits the front line of the battle, wiping out entire armies and flooding fields and cities. The sea rages; the sky falls.

Through it all, Soonyoung doesn’t blink an eye.

////

“What were you thinking?”

Junhui’s voice is not riddled with anger or disappointment, but rather exasperation and a weariness that Soonyoung’s heard all too often. Soonyoung turns to look at Junhui. His eyes are dimmer than usual.

“I wasn’t,” he replies. “I was feeling.”

“And you doing so took away thousands of innocent lives.”

Soonyoung snorts. “How could you even say they were innocent? They were willing to spill blood all for something so _foolish_. They took lives without regret. They were no better than I.”

Junhui sighs, heavy and long. “You can’t just do things like this just because -”

“Don’t,” Soonyoung warns, voice sharp and cold as ice.

Junhui falls silent.

“His name was Jihoon,” Soonyoung says. He steps closer to Junhui and in this proximity he could see clearly the white specks in Junhui’s irises.

“I know,” says Junhui.

“He is more than a mortal. More than a story. He isn’t merely a tragedy.” A pause. Soonyoung feels hollow when he says, “Are you going to punish me?”

Junhui only says, “I warned you, Soonyoung. I told you not to get too close.”

Looking into the purple haze that is Junhui’s eyes, Soonyoung finally comes to a realisation that he dreads, something that makes him want to bury Junhui under the seabed.

His voice is quiet, creeping, when he says, “You knew.”

Junhui looks tired, but says nothing to confirm nor deny it. Soonyoung’s voice grows louder with every syllable he says. “You _knew_! You _bastard_ , why didn’t you tell me?”

“You know why,” Junhui replies, much too calm for Soonyoung’s liking. Soonyoung is trembling, a fistful of Junhui’s robe in his hands. “I can’t reveal anything that might alter the course of history. ”

“You control time,” Soonyoung says. He feels a wetness on his cheeks but he’s not exactly sure when he started crying. The tremors travel to his hands and he doesn’t try to stop them. “Bring him back. Please.”

“I’m sorry,” Junhui says, eyes wistful and downturned. “It is beyond my control.”

“It’s not fair,” Soonyoung sobs. He releases his grip on Junhui’s robes, letting his hands fall. Junhui grabs onto his side to steady him. “It’s not _fair_.”

“There are other worlds, Soonyoung,” Junhui whispers, an attempt of consolation.

////

Jihoon’s body is ice cold under Soonyoung’s fingers, his lips a pale blue. He does not look like Jihoon. Soonyoung doesn’t want it to be Jihoon, but even anguish comes to break down the gods once in a while, proves to them that they’re not as mighty as they think they are.

Soonyoung lays Jihoon down by the edge of the water, studying his face one last time as he etches his features into his memories for the centuries to come. Jihoon looks younger, more peaceful. Soonyoung likes to think that his last few moments alive were not of pain but something akin to tranquility. He had always been a calm person, even in the toughest of situations. Soonyoung places a light kiss onto each of Jihoon’s closed eyes, his long lashes casting shadows on his cheek. He still looks beautiful. He always will be.

The amulet is heavy around his neck, but it is a weight he doesn’t mind bearing. “Thank you,” he whispers as his hand finds its way to the amulet, holding it tightly.

Soonyoung waits and watches in silence as the waves and foam start climbing up the shore, slow and steady, until they bring Jihoon along with them. They are gentle, just like what Soonyoung told them to be, as they carry Jihoon out, out, out. He will be resting in the place he loved so much. He will be brought back home.

A single tear falls onto the golden sand by Soonyoung’s feet. Everything Soonyoung loves and once loved is out there now, in the cerulean vastness, full of untold stories and memories, a consciousness that only some will understand.

////

Legend says that if you were to stand by the sea on the hottest day of spring, you will be able to hear a soft singing, drowned out by the waves but still there nonetheless. Sometimes the voice sings of the ocean. Sometimes the voice sings of love. Often the voice sings of a tale of someone who is mortal and someone who is not, separated by time and circumstance, a heartbreaking tune that no one wants to listen to for too long. If you listen closer, you’ll be able to pick up a conversation, something that isn’t meant for the whole world to hear.

 _I would cross the stars for you_ , the ocean would say.

 _As would I_ , the reply would come, blowing in the wind.


	2. Epilogue

He’s never been the biggest fan of the first day of school -- they are usually riddled with anxiety and fueled by a sleepless night and a couple cups of coffee. They make him jittery but they get him through the day.

The first class he has is Introduction to Poetry, something that he’s forced to take even though it has nothing to do with his major. He doesn’t really understand poetry at all -- the metaphors and analogies always fly past his head. He specializes in dance and poetry won’t help him come up with choreography or learn them faster. He made it to class in the nick of time and grabs a seat close to the door so he could exit quickly when class ends.

Groaning softly, he rests his head on the table, trying not to fall asleep to the sound of his professor’s voice as she reads out a poem. It sounds old, something about lightning and the sky and the ocean.

“In this particular line,” she says after a brief pause, “what do you think the poet is trying to say? What does he feel?” The click-clack of her heels echo through the room as she slowly paces up and down. “Anyone?”

Silence. There might as well be a handful of crickets rubbing their wings together in unison.

“Ah, yes!” the professor suddenly exclaims.

From his peripheral vision, he sees her point to someone at the back of the lecture hall. “You in the hoodie.”

“Holy,” the person says. Their voice – like gentle waves crashing onto a shore of untouched white sand. “He feels holy.”

He lifts his head and turns around.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [finger guns] what's up
> 
> special thanks to [jasmine](https://archiveofourown.org/users/vsyubs/works) for being such a fantastic beta ily!!!!  
> and also thanks to everyone who read this! i hope you enjoyed it!!!  
> comments are always appreciated. <3
> 
> feel free to hmu on [twitter](https://twitter.com/aestaegis)!


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